


we've worked so hard (yeah we've come so far)

by flashlightinacave



Category: Never Have I Ever (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Holidays, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:48:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24498217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flashlightinacave/pseuds/flashlightinacave
Summary: Devi groans dramatically, releasing Ben’s hand as she flops into one of the seats. “Seriously, Ben? We’re watching  Contagion?”Ben takes the seat next to her and chuckles at her annoyed face. “Well it is my birthday, so I thought it would be fair for me to pick the film we watch.”Devi wacks him in the shoulder. “Fine,” she pouts, looping her hands around his arm and resting her head against his shoulder. “But I am going to make fun of all of the bad science.”Ben laughs again, Devi can make him laugh like no one else. He presses a kiss against her forehead. “I have no doubt, David.”or; 3 holidays Devi and Ben celebrate together
Relationships: Ben Gross/Devi Vishwakumar
Comments: 64
Kudos: 166





	1. Ben's Birthday

**Author's Note:**

> Can't stop, won't stop writing fanfic about these dorks. I hope you guys enjoy!
> 
> Because it's me, this fic contains some gratuitous science references. Sorry, I'm not sorry at all. 
> 
> Come chat about this show with me on Tumblr where I'm @montygreen
> 
> Because MARINA lyrics are my brand, this fic is named after lyrics from MARINA's song "Superstar"

It’s for his 17th birthday that Ben finally gets the party he wanted the year before: no party at all. 

He doesn’t invite over his entire class, he doesn’t mix a bowl of punch laced with a dangerous amount of alcohol, he doesn’t mentally prepare himself for cleaning up after a hoard of drunken teenagers, he just invites over a single person, Devi.

He and Devi have been dating for nearly a year now and Ben is still a little bewildered. He can’t quite wrap his mind around the idea that the person he spent years competing with and trying to outdo in, well, everything, is now one of the people he loves most in the world. (And yes, she caught him off guard one night four months into their relationship and told him she loved him, a night Ben happily thinks of as one of the highlights of his life. He’d known he was in love with her pretty soon after they’d made things official, but he didn’t want to scare her off. He wanted to take their new tentative relationship at Devi’s pace.)

That same reason is also why this is the first holiday they’re celebrating together. Devi had wanted to take things slow, so they’d held off from overly publicizing their relationship. Devi had told Eleanor and Fabiola, of course, as well as her mother and cousin, and Ben had tried to tell his parents (he still wonders if they absorbed a word he said), but they didn’t tell anyone else. It was only recently that he and Devi had posted a photo together on social media, effectively unveiling their relationship to the entire school.

But now their relationship is very much out and public, so starting to do more couple like things seems as good an idea as any. Celebrating holidays together is an easy step in that direction. Besides, Ben is finally getting the birthday party he wanted last year, the one that isn’t a party at all, but rather is just more time with Devi.

He hears a familiar chime of his doorbell around 8:00 pm and rushes to answer the door. Devi stands outside, a small brown bag tucked under her arm, a short deep pink dress flattering her curves. The colour compliments her skin (but that’s not saying much, Devi, Ben decides, looks good in absolutely every colour, style, or outfit. She’s always absolutely beautiful) and the neckline is teasingly low. She’s even messing with him in the way she dresses now, how typical. Ben swallows and has to stop his gaze from raking over her and instead focuses on Devi’s face, her brown eyes currently twinkling with mischief. She knows exactly what she’s doing to him. 

She steps inside and Ben shuts the door behind her, but he still can’t keep his eyes off of her.

“Ben,” she cups his face in her hands and he swears his brain short circuits,” you’re staring.” 

Ben gulps, in this proximity, he can smell Devi’s perfume, something spicy and exotic. (Though his subconscious sternly reminds him that it is a bit orientalist for him to think of her perfume as exotic.) He considers denying Devi’s point for a moment, but decides against it. “You just look…” He clears his throat. “...really hot.” He feels flush creeping up his neck and knows his face has likely turned a matching tint of pink.

Devi smirks, at bit mockingly, but there’s also a hint of genuine flattery and happiness. Devi may know exactly what she’s doing to him, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t appreciate a good compliment.

She leans in, as if to kiss him, before teasingly drawing away. Ben frowns slightly in disappointment to which Devi barks out a laugh. “So, what are we doing for your birthday?”

Ben reaches for one of her hands. “I was thinking we could watch a movie,” he suggests, intertwining their fingers. “If you recall, I do have quite a nice screening room.”

Devi tilts her head to the side. “What movie were you thinking?”

Ben leads her to his screening room, swinging their joined hands between them as they walk, the rhythm repetitive and soothing. “ _Contagion._ ”

Devi groans dramatically, releasing Ben’s hand as she flops into one of the seats. “Seriously, Ben? We’re watching _Contagion_?” 

Ben takes the seat next to her and chuckles at her annoyed face. “Well it is my birthday, so I thought it would be fair for me to pick the film we watch.”

Devi wacks him in the shoulder. “Fine,” she pouts, looping her hands around his arm and resting her head against his shoulder. “But I am going to make fun of all of the bad science.”

Ben laughs again, Devi can make him laugh like no one else. He presses a kiss against her forehead. “I have no doubt, David.”

(He admits that he chose a movie that is known to have terrible science because he wants Devi’s smart-ass commentary. She’s even more attractive when she’s assertive and intelligent.)

They only make it about 5 minutes into the movie before Devi is pointing out a scientific inaccuracy. It seems she’s made it her mission to identify and explain every single fault. “Ben,” she pokes his chest to get his attention, “you have to know this is utterly ridiculous, why does the virus start as a cough and end up causing a seizure. There’s no way a virus would affect both the lungs and the brain.”

“David, I’m trying to listen to the dialogue, not your commentary,” Ben retorts, annoyed she’s already drawn his attention away from the film, “besides how much do you know about infectious disease?”

“Excuse you, I know a ton about infectious disease, I’ve read books!” Devi lifts her head from his shoulder to peer up at him. “Let me explain this in simple terms that even you can understand.” Ben feels her grip tighten around his arm. “Think of a virus as a key and a cell surface receptor as a lock.”

Ben scoffs. “I know about that metaphor, David.”

Devi ignores him and keeps speaking. “A virus can only infect a certain type of cell, just like a key can only open a certain type of lock. For a virus to somehow infect cells in both the lungs and brain, you would need…” She looks up at him expectantly.

“Two different keys?”

“Exactly,” Devi smirks in satisfaction as if she thinks she’s proven him wrong, but Ben has one more trick up his sleeve.

“What about an immune response?”

Devi moves her hands from wrapped around his arm to smooth his collar and pick pieces of imaginary lint off his shoulder. “What about an immune response?” she repeats, sounding slightly annoyed.

“A widespread inflammatory response could explain symptoms in different parts of the body. So while the virus might only be able to infect the lung epithelial cells, the immune system can induce such a strong inflammatory response, that some of the inflammation can affect the brain, hence why,” he clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, “Gwyneth Paltrow’s character died of a seizure.”

“Okay fine,” Devi concedes, “you may have a slight point, but don’t you think the virus progresses a bit too fast for that? Widespread lethal inflammatory responses don’t typically occur after only a day of infection. The immune system doesn’t overreact that quickly.”

Ben purses his lips, but doesn’t say anything.

And speaking of,” Devi continues, “there’s no way a virus can be that lethal and infectious at the same time. The first two characters who got sick died within a day, there’s no way they were able to infect enough people for this virus to keep spreading.” Devi runs a hand down Ben’s arm before grabbing his hand and squeezing it tightly. “A virus cannot continue to infect if it kills all its hosts.”

“Unless it can spread through corpse transmission.”

Devi arches an eyebrow. “Did they specify that MEV-1 can be transmitted from corpses?”

“Just shut up and watch the movie, David.”

Devi does manage to keep quiet for 10 minutes before she’s pointing out another inaccuracy. “The average human does NOT touch their face 2000 - 3000 times per day,” she scoffs, “that’s ridiculous. Not to mention, we do not touch our faces every time we touch a surface. Frankly, people are overly paranoid about fomites. Contracting a virus from a surface requires a very complicated causal relation,” she continues, eyes focused on the screen. 

She’s ridiculously attractive when she’s like this, Ben thinks, when she’s fiery and passionate and excited. Her eyes light up the same way they do when she does super well on a test or assignment, like a spark has been ignited within her. Ben isn’t watching the film any longer, he’s watching Devi, a fond smile on his face.

“First, someone infected has to touch the surface, so the surface can become contaminated. Next, an uninfected individual has to touch the same surface. Not only that, but the uninfected person has to let the virus enter their body, by either touching their face or having an open wound, and that’s not even accounting for the importance of viral load! Viruses decay over time and eventually, a surface is no longer infectious. A larger concern regarding the spread of infectious disease is contact with infected individuals which can usually be mitigated—” 

He cuts her off and kisses her then, leaning across his seat the same way he did a year ago. 

She tastes sweet, like her sparkly bubblegum flavoured lipgloss and her lips are ridiculously soft against his.

It’s soft at first, tender, maybe a little hesitant. Ben cups the back of her head with his hand, the other hovering over her waist. Devi opens her mouth to him and moves her hand to cup his cheek, which Ben takes as permission to deepen the kiss.

He kisses her like she is a source of oxygen and he is a smouldering ember. He kisses her like she’s the source of hydrogen the sun and every other star uses for nuclear fusion, like she is something both wholly essential and necessary, but also something of which he can’t get enough. (Because that's the truth, he can’t get enough of Devi, he never wants to get enough of her either.)

Her tongue sweeps into his mouth and Ben can’t suppress a moan at which Devi pulls away from him, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Why did you do that?” she asks, a little breathless, and Ben can’t help but grin knowing he’s the reason why.

He shrugs his shoulders and moves the hand that was cupping her head to brush against her jaw. “I wanted to,” he states matter-of-factly.

Devi shakes her head and laughs. “No, there’s definitely more of a reason for it than that.” She swipes her thumb against the pad of his bottom lip. “You always want to kiss me, you're obsessed with me.”

Drat. She does have a point. Ben sighs, tucking a loose strand of hair behind Devi’s ear. “You’re just… really pretty when you’re smart and passionate.”

“That means I’m always really pretty then, right?” 

“Oh, most definitely,” Ben says, leaning in to kiss her again. It’s a bit clumsy and uncoordinated given their current seating arrangement, but somehow it’s still everything Ben has ever wanted.

He regretfully pulls away when his lungs are burning for air. “Devi,” he rasps, “we forgot all about the movie,” he points to the screen where one of the protagonists appears to have fallen ill with the virus.

“Oh come on! You know this film is ridiculous.”

“It is!” The character Ben identified as ill earlier is now dying, slowly wasting away. “At the beginning of the movie Beth Emhof and her son died almost instantly after catching the virus, now it looks like Dr. Erin Mears, who is infected, is dying ridiculously slowly.”

Devi gives him a look that signals _I told you so._ “She’s been dying for like the last 10 minutes!”

“Also they said the virus contains both pig and bat DNA, is that even possible?”

“It sure as hell shouldn’t be!” Devi cries out. “The only reason humans can catch bird flus, like H1N1, is because pigs serve as a mixing vessel for bird and human DNA, the same is not true with bats.”

“Do you wanna maybe,” Ben presses a kiss on her shoulder, “do something else?”

“I think anything would be better than being subject to these blatant scientific inaccuracies.” 

Ben nods and shuts off the movie, leaving the room slightly darker, though Devi is still illuminated by the room’s red glow. “We could go eat some cake.”

“We could,” Devi agrees, “but first, I brought you a present.” Devi reaches into the small bag she brought along with her and pulls out a box. She passes it over to him and Ben knits his brow in confusion.

“California Brittle,” she clarifies, “I brought you some last year.”

“Oh!” Ben turns the box over in his hands and grins at Devi. “Once again, the only present I got, thank you!”

Devi smiles at him softly and god the look on her face makes him want to kiss her again. “Happy birthday, Ben,” she says and it’s like deja vu when he leans in. A year ago, she’d turned him down — twice — but today she kisses him back.

There’s something oddly poetic about it. The idea that they both back where they started (the day he realized exactly what his feelings for Devi were, what they meant), but also somewhere completely different (happy, in love, together.) Their relationship is like a planet in retrograde motion, appearing to move backwards, when this motion is only an illusion cast by the relative positions of the planet, Earth, and sun. He and Devi’s relationship has not moved backwards, it continues to march forward, like a celestial object moving about its elliptical orbit.

He gently draws away from her, hand still lingering on her cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Devi says, rising to her feet, “now, let’s go eat some cake.”

* * *

“Ben,” Devi says, pulling him from his thoughts. “Is that cake shaped like you?”

She’s pointing at the elaborate cake resting on the kitchen island, which is modelled after his likeness. “It is,” Ben answers with a nod and a noncommittal shrug. “My parents said they didn’t know what I was a fan of, so they just paid for a custom made me-shaped cake.”

Devi snorts. “It’s a pretty good likeness, actually.” She dips her finger into the frosting, stealing a drop and sticking it into her mouth. “A little frightening, if I’m being honest,” she says as she licks sugary icing off her finger.

“David,” Ben pouts, “don’t steal frosting, you’re ruining my cake.”

Devi rolls her eyes, jams another finger into the cake, taking a much larger amount of frosting this time. Rather than eating it, she smears the mixture of cake and frosting on Ben’s face.

The icing cake combination feels sticky, coating his cheeks and lips. “How’s that for ruining your cake?” Devi asks, her tone a combination of both mockery and affectionate that makes Ben’s heart flutter. She steals another dollop of icing and plops it on his nose.

She’s smiling teasingly and has this affectionate glint in her eyes that makes Ben want to kiss her, so that’s exactly what he does. Instead of dignifying her taunt with a verbal response, he simply pulls her close and presses their lips together. 

When she opens her mouth to deepen the kiss, she tastes sugary, sweet, and saccharine, like the icing drops she’s stolen. His hands splay across her back, pulling her impossibly closer, while her fingers card through his hair. He swallows back a moan when her hands move from to rest on the nape of his neck, teasing at the hair there.

Kissing Devi, despite being a normal occurrence, is somehow always extraordinary. It’s an earth-shattering — no, he needs a grander term — galaxy-shattering experience. It’s like a big bang, an instant in time, from which everything and anything in their own private universe emerges. Every star, every planet, every galaxy, every nebula is both created and subsequently destroyed when they kiss. Sometimes Ben wonders if they create energy in the space between their kisses, if the laws of thermodynamics reverse. When he kisses Devi, entropy decreases and order is subsequently restored to their personal little universe.

When he draws away from Devi, he notices much of the icing that she smeared on his face now also coats hers. He swipes his thumb against her cheek, retrieving the drop of icing there and pops it in his mouth. Devi arches an eyebrow at him. “Did you just kiss me as a form of payback?”

“Perhaps,” Ben says, kissing her nose to retrieve a splotch of icing that rests there, “but I also just really wanted to kiss you.”

“You always want to kiss me,” Devi repeats, swiping a patch of icing off his cheek. “Not that I can blame you though, I’m irresistible.”

“You most certainly are,” Ben agrees, kissing her once more.

A happy birthday indeed.


	2. Thanksgiving

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!
> 
> I hope you enjoy this second chapter.
> 
> Fyi, I'm half Indian, so many of the dishes mentioned in this chapter are foods I've actually eaten and enjoyed (and I've never had your traditional white thanksgiving, so that's not at all what this chapter is.)
> 
> I hope you enjoy! Come yell about this show with me on Tumblr where I'm @montygreen
> 
> I'm also considering taking prompts over on my Tumblr if anyone wants to send me some!

Devi’s mother invites Ben and his parents over for Thanksgiving dinner. 

His parents initially accept the invite, agreeing on a time that suits their schedules, then unsurprisingly they bail — his mother has a self-actualization retreat in the Caribbean and his father has some big case with Drake (‘he’s trying to trademark the word rhythm this time’) — and they’re soooooooo very sorry, they’ll definitely make it up to him, and join the Vishwakumars for dinner at a later date.

When he calls Devi’s mom to inform her that his parents won’t be attending, intending to cancel his own appearance, she reassures him that he’s still welcome to come for dinner. Even over the phone, Ben can identify a certain pity in her tone. It suggests that she knew Ben’s parents would bail all along and she didn’t want him spending the holiday alone. In all honesty, Ben doesn’t want to spend the holiday alone either, he’s spent more holidays completely alone than he would like, not even in the company of his housekeeper — Patty has the day off on holidays and though she always offers to come in and keep him company, Ben never lets her. Going over for dinner means he gets to spend more time with Devi, so he confirms his attendance to yet another Vishwakumar family meal. 

He’s attended more dinners with Devi’s family than he can count, this number only exponentially increasing since he and Devi started dating, and he’s decided he quite likes her family. Devi’s mother still terrifies him (Ben is never sure whether to call her Dr. Vishwakumar or ma’am and tends to awkwardly waffle between the two) and Kamala’s food still burns his poor (‘white and inexperienced,” Devi has mockingly supplied) taste buds, but he likes her family. They’re always inviting and kind and though every dinner invitation is born out of pity, he never feels that sympathy when he attends. 

He decides to drive over to Vishwakumar’s, rather than calling for a Lyft or another car-share service. He takes his dad’s Porsche. The route mercifully involves no highways and he’s had his license for nearly a year now, meaning he’s much more confident on the road. Besides, driving is a good distraction, an effective way to not think about the pitying looks he’s most definitely about to receive from Devi’s entire family when he shows up for yet another meal alone.

Devi greets him at the door, a small smile on her face. She’s not dressed up or anything, but Ben still thinks she looks beautiful.

(He always thinks Devi Vishwakumar looks beautiful. She’s on his mind the majority of the time and always beautiful no matter her emotional state. He reveres every single version of Devi, happy Devi, sad Devi, blissed-out Devi, passionate, articulate, fiery Devi. Even when she’s furious at him she’s captivating like a supernova: explosive, beautiful, brilliant, and bright.) 

She ushers him inside, shutting the door behind him and directs him to take off his shoes. (The first time Ben had been over for dinner after he started dating Devi, he hadn’t immediately remembered to take off his shoes. She’d glared pointedly at him and teasingly called him a heathen, and warned him that her mother would snap at him. Now, he always remembers as not to incur her mother’s wrath.) 

Devi takes his coat, hanging it on their coat rack. She hasn’t even said a word to him yet, but god, Ben is overwhelmed with this stupid desire to kiss her, so once she’s facing him again he leans in— 

Only for her to push him away. 

“Ben,” she hisses, “we can’t do that here!” The pleasant expression she wore when she greeted him at the door has morphed into a scowl. “My mother is quite literally in the other room!”

“Your mother knows we’re dating, Devi,” Ben objects.

“Well, yes, she does, but at the same time, she doesn’t know the details. It’s like a forbidden romance.” She cups his cheek in her palm. “Kinda fun that way.”

Ben snorts. “Fun? Tell that to the time you kicked me in the head when you were trying to hide me in your closet because your mom got home earlier than expected.” He taps the formerly bruised, still surprisingly tender area on his head. “I still have the bump.”

“Fine! She may know we’re dating, but you know the rules, we don’t flaunt our relationship in front of her!” She briefly rests her hands on his shoulders, fixing the collar of his shirt before running them down his arms and taking his hands. “If my mother walks in on you kissing me, she will kick you out of our house, or worse, she might kill you.” 

Holding her hands, her tiny hands engulfed by his larger ones, just makes Ben want to kiss her more. “But I really want to kiss you,” he pouts, giving her his most sympathetic and convincing puppy dog eyes. 

Devi tilts her head to the side as if she’s contemplating his statement, scrunching her brow as she thinks. “We could come up with a set of conditions under which we’re allowed to kiss?” she suggests.

“A set of conditions?” _What in the hell does she mean?_

“Yes, exactly.”

“A set of conditions under which I can kiss you?” 

Devi rolls her eyes and grimaces. “Has that not been made clear? Yes, Ben, that is exactly what I mean!” She gives his hands and a quick squeeze and releases them.

Ben still isn’t sure what Devi means, but he’s willing to hear her out. (Mostly, he just really, really wants to kiss her.) “Alright, what are your terms?”

Devi clears her throat and begins counting her points out on her fingers. “Alright, one, my mom has to be occupied in another room. Two, she needs to remain busy with whatever her task such that she will not see us. And finally, we need to not get distracted.”

Ben arches an eyebrow. “Not get distracted?”

“I know it might be a little hard for you, Gross, given that you’re obsessed with me, but my mom mustn’t catch us.”

“I won’t get distracted.”

“Oh yeah?” Devi takes a step closer to him, she’s standing so close that her perfume overwhelms his senses. They’re so close together, she’s practically mumbling against his mouth, her breath ghosting over his lips. “I dare you not to.”

She quickly glances in the other direction, as if she’s making sure her mother is occupied before she finally, blissfully kisses him.

When she kisses him, it’s as though time slows down. Seconds pass in minutes, minutes in hours, hours in days. It’s as though Devi is a black hole and Ben an orbiting planet, her gravity sucking him in, consuming, consuming, consuming him. Her gravitation is so strong that time dilation kicks in, slowing the world around them. He would be happy to spend an eternity here with her, lips pressed together, mouths moving in perfect sync, her hands carding through his hair as his roam down her back, swallowing back a moan as she teases him with her tongue.

But then he remembers her challenge and quickly pulls away from her, their lips separating with an audible smack. Devi’s eyes are blown wide with shock — _she really thought she’d beat me._

“See?” he says with a smirk, “I told you I wouldn’t get distracted.”

Devi playfully rolls her eyes, whacks his arm affectionately, and slips one of her hands into his as she leads him into their kitchen.

“Ah, Benjamin,” Nalini greets him, gaze quickly flickering down to his and Devi’s joined hands, prompting Ben to release Devi’s hand to put a more acceptable distance between them. “Perfect timing, Kamala is nearly finished cooking.”

“Happy Thanksgiving, Dr. Vishwakumar — I mean, Ma’am. I’m sorry my parents couldn’t make it.”

Nalini looks at him, the pity he was very much dreading in her expression and Ben feels his embarrassment steadily rising. 

But before she can make some sympathetic unwanted remark about his parents, Kamala cuts her off. “So great to have you, Ben! I’ve made a wide variety of dishes,” she gestures to some of the serving dishes already laid out on the dining room table, “including sambar, vada, gobi manchurian, channa masala, puri, curd rice, and idli. And yes, I did remember to lower the spice level accordingly.” She flashes him a polite smile and turns back to her cooking.

“Benjamin, why don’t you and Devi take your seats at the table,” Nalini says, “Kamala and I will be there shortly.”

He watches Devi smile at her mother before she’s grabbing his elbow and practically dragging him into the dining room. “Man, I’m sure you’re relieved Kamala remembered to make dinner less spicy,” Devi taunts as she releases his elbow and takes her seat at the table. “You have approximately zero spice tolerance.”

“I have some spice tolerance,” Ben protests, taking the seat next to Devi.

“My guy, one time when you were here for dinner, Kamala prepared the mildest aloo gobi I had ever eaten and one bite made your face turn bright red.”

“It was spicy!”

“Ben, I am telling you, it was mild, your taste buds are just weak.”

“They are not! And besides, this is no way to treat your boyfriend!”

“No, this is exactly how I should treat my boyfriend,” Devi retorts, a victorious smile on her face. A brief silence elapses as Ben glances at the dishes on the table. Kamala had just listed all the things she’d prepared for dinner, but Ben had already forgotten what everything was. 

“You have no idea what any of these are, do you?”

 _Damn it! How does she have such an infuriating ability to practically read my mind?_

He doesn’t admit that she’s right, but somehow his silence is more telling than any answer could be. “Really, Ben, I expected more from you at this point,” Devi clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth, “Look, I’m not gonna tell you what each Indian dish is, that’s your job to figure out, but I will tell you which Kamala made the least spicy so we don’t have a repeat of you drinking 8 glasses of water during a single meal like the time you tried Kamala’s lentil dal.”

“That was one time!”

Devi rolls her eyes and points to the dish in the middle of the table. “She made the chana masala most mild today, it’s probably your best bet.”

His attention is drawn away from Devi by Nalini and Kamala entering the dining room, Kamala setting the final dish down on the table. “So, Benjamin,” Nalini says as she takes her seat at the head of the table. “How are you doing in school?”

“Pretty well,” Ben answers, scooping some of the curried chickpeas onto his plate — chana masala, Devi had just told him it was called — “I have As in all my classes, but our teachers seem much more interested in eccentric projects than teaching us the material we need for the AP tests, Devi and I always have to study for those outside of class.”

It’s not entirely a lie, he and Devi do spend time going over AP material together. It’s just often interspersed with a lot of flirting and making out and many other things Devi’s mother doesn’t need to know as he tries to stay on her good side.

“Devi has mentioned that too,” Nalini says, turning towards her daughter. “What was that project you told me your teacher assigned you?”

“We had to do a debate, where we were assigned a historical figure and we had to convince the class they should be friends with that individual and no one else,” Devi says between bites of food. “It was beyond stupid.”

“Although, it’s not as stupid as the time Mr. Shapiro made us create a Tinder profile for a famous scientist last year,” Ben interjects.

“At least you got Marie Curie, she’s freaking awesome! I had to design a profile for Alexander Flemming!” Devi sticks out her tongue and screws up her nose in disgust.

“Look, whether you got an appealing person or not, the project was still ridiculous,” Ben says as he steels himself to take a bite of the food on his plate.

The first taste isn’t that bad, a bit spicier than he’d like, but still bearable. Maybe Devi’s family finally has figured out how to lower the spice level enough for him. 

Then suddenly, Ben is certain his taste buds have been set on fire. His entire face feels hot and he’s coughing like an absolute idiot. He takes a large gulp of water and turns to see Devi failing to hold back laughter.

“Oh dear,” Kamala says, her tone filled with concern, “is my cooking still too spicy for you, Ben?”

Ben waves his hands to dismiss her point. “No, no, it’s perfectly fine,” he rasps, taking another gulp of water. Logically, Ben knows that a better way to mitigate the fiery feeling in his mouth is to drown a glass of milk rather than one of water. (He knows the compound currently burning his mouth, capsaicin, is fat-soluble and milk is filled with fat molecules.) But there isn’t exactly a way for him to excuse himself to get a glass of milk, for goodness sake. 

“I can’t say I wasn’t surprised that you took channa of all things. Didn’t Devi tell you it was the spiciest thing I prepared?” Kamala asks, glancing at him sympathetically as she takes another bite of food.

Devi is still chuckling at him. “She actually told me the exact opposite.”

“Devi!” Nalini admonishes, fixing a pointed glare at her daughter. “This boy is our guest, you can’t do stuff like that!”

Devi snorts. “Okay, but you have to admit, Ben’s continued inability to eat anything with even an ounce of spice is hilarious.”

Ben continues to cough as Nalini yells at Devi, yet he can see the corners of her mouth tilting up the slightest bit.

When Ben finally manages to numb the burning feeling in his mouth with water, Kamala correctly informs him that the sambar is the least spicy dish she prepared. She passes him the serving platter and Ben spoons the food onto his plate, scowling at Devi all the while. Ben takes a bite of the food and is relieved to find that it is significantly less spicy than the chana. Still more spicy than he would like, but he can eat a few bites of it without turning red in the face and humiliating himself, so it’s an improvement.

The rest of the meal passes much less eventfully, Devi’s mother asks him countless questions about school: if he feels ready for his SATS (he does, but there’s no harm in studying even more since he wants to achieve the highest score possible and inspire others), what he intends on majoring in when he’s off attending school at Yale (political science, he wants to eventually become a lawyer), and how his summer internship went (quite well, he’s expecting a glowing recommendation letter from his former boss.)

He catches a few eye rolls from Devi as he speaks to her mother and hears her mumble ‘suck up’ under her breath more times than he’d like to count. She’s not entirely wrong, he is doing his best to make Devi’s mom like him because he loves Devi, really likes being in a relationship with her and, quite frankly, Nalini still terrifies him. (She will always terrify him, Ben thinks.) If sucking up to Devi’s mother is necessary for him to continue to be permitted to date her daughter, Ben will suck up as much as it takes. Besides, he knows he is the master of making authority figures like him and Devi’s mother is no different than any strict teacher or supervisor he’s had and eventually won over.

Ben prides himself in being a good observer, able to pick up on minute signals to know how someone is really feeling. Using these skills he notices that he seems to be pleasing Devi’s mother. She smiles at each one of his responses, subtly, imperceptibly to someone not paying close attention, but it’s still present. He may be laying it on a little thick, but his efforts seem to be working like a charm.

For dessert, Kamala prepares something she calls gulab jamun, garnished with almonds and cashews. It’s sweet and tastes slightly of saffron, a flavour Ben has come to appreciate during his many dinners with the Vishwakumars.

As he eats dessert and laughs with Devi and her family, Ben realizes that every family dinner he’s had in the past 2 years has been with the Vishwakumars. Slightly more startlingly, he realizes he would not want it any other way.

* * *

Devi is tucked into his side, where she fits perfectly, like a key in a lock, or two pieces of a puzzle, as they cuddle on her bed later that evening. “You know what I just realized?”

Devi nuzzles her head further into his chest. “What?”

“All of your conditions currently apply.”

Devi tilts up her head to look him in the eyes, her brown irises meeting his blue ones. 

Brown. 

It seems strange to Ben that the beautiful colour of her eyes can be described by such a simple world. Her eyes aren’t just brown, they’re the earthy tone of soil after a torrential rainstorm. A place from which all life can live and grow. And now they’re looking at him in absolute confusion, brows knit together, pupils slightly dilated. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Your conditions from earlier,” he repeats and when Devi stills looks confused he supplies, “the ones under which I can kiss you.”

Devi shifts out from under his arms and Ben feels slightly cooler in her absence. “Oh.”

“Your mom is downstairs washing dishes before she can run the dishwasher, so she should remain occupied for a while and I’ve already proven to you that I’m capable of not being distracted so…” He smirks at her. “Now seems as good a time as any.”

“Point taken.”

“So,” Ben brushes his thumb against her cheek, “can I kiss you?”

Devi nods her head and Ben leans in to press his lips to hers. It’s tentative at first, perhaps a little bit hesitant, as if he’s asking for permission, but Devi deepens it by further opening her mouth to him and wrapping her arms around him. He pushes his hands into her hair, his palms large enough to cup the entire back of her head.

Suddenly he realizes he’s resting against something soft and he and Devi are horizontally lying on her bed, trading kisses that are both lazy and passionate all at once. The idea is slightly oxymoronic, the more he thinks about it. The idea of kissing someone both lazily and passionately seems contradictory beyond measure. Then suddenly her tongue is in his mouth and he stops thinking completely. He stops analyzing, he stops rationalizing, he just kisses her. He feels hazy and giddy and it’s ridiculous because they’ve done this so many times before, kissed each other breathless while lying on one of the many sofas in his house. Her hands are caressing his chest and he moans into her mouth, getting lost in her and— 

“Devi, your mother and I were wondering whether you want us to buy something for you when we go Black Friday shopping tomorrow and— oh my goodness!”

They spring apart, Devi practically shoving him off of her bed, Ben only catching himself by firmly gripping her comforter. “Hi, Kamala!” Ben yelps out a little louder than necessary, laughing awkwardly as he rubs his head and jumps off her bed and onto his feet. “I was just in Devi’s room looking for my… uh… history notes that she borrowed… from me.” He stumbles over to Devi’s desk grabbing the first piece of paper he can find and waves it erratically. “There! I found it!”

He catches Devi’s glare almost immediately. _History notes?? Really Ben? That was your best excuse?_

Kamala eyes the two suspiciously. “You were looking for history notes?”

“Yeah, he was just here,” Devi clears her throat, “looking for the history notes I borrowed from him.”

“You were looking for history notes by making out with one another?” She turns to face Ben and gives him a pointed glare, resting her hand on her hip. “Were the history notes in her mouth, Ben?”

Ben feels his face heat up in mortification.

Devi’s eyes widen in fear “Please, please don’t tell my mom!”

Kamala looks between the two of them again before clapping her hands together. “Aha! I get to blackmail you this time!”

Devi groans and buries her head in her hands. “Fine, what do you want?”

Kamala contemplates Devi’s question for a moment, tilting her head to the side. “Hmmm...” She strokes her chin. “I accidentally may have agreed to a date with a fellow Cal Tech student, but things with Prashant are going super well and I don’t want to screw it up, so perhaps…” She steps closer to Devi’s bed. “You could help get me out of it?”

Devi scowls at her cousin. “How do you possibly expect me to do that?”

“Well, Devi, considering I am blackmailing you, that’s up to you to decide. But then again, your mother would believe me if I told her that I caught you and your boyfriend about to rip off each other’s clothes.”

Devi groans dramatically and Ben watches her flop onto her bed, burying her head in her pillow. 

“Maybe consider locking the door next time you want to engage in a secret rendezvous,” Kamala suggests with a wink before leaving the room and shutting the door behind her.

“You know my bedroom door doesn’t have a lock!”

Ben takes a seat on Devi’s bed next to her and she immediately shoves him. “This is your fault!”

“How is this my fault?”

“You kissed me first!”

“David,” Ben says, his tone exasperated yet fond, “technically I followed all your rules, it’s not my fault you didn’t factor in your cousin.”

She shoves him again and Ben lets out an involuntary yelp. She sits up just enough to bury her head in his chest. “I hate you,” she pouts.

He presses a kiss to her head and pulls her close. “Nah you don’t.”


	3. Valentine's Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is sort of the chapter of references, so I hope you all appreciate that!! 
> 
> I love these dumb idiots more than a lot of things and they are unbelievably fun to write!
> 
> Come shoot me a message on Tumblr where I'm @montygreen either to yell about the show or give me prompts for more writing I can do about these two dorks!

Chaos breaks loose on a Saturday.

It all starts with a conversation as Ben helps Devi wash and put away dishes after attending another Vishwakumar family dinner. He dries a plate and places it in the cupboard. “So… Valentine’s Day is coming up.”

Devi, who is intently focused on washing out a large pan, snaps her head up. She raises the pan slightly, her eyes narrowed in what Ben assumes is anger and for a split second he worries Devi might smash the pan over his head. 

“I swear to god, if I receive even one giant teddy bear from you, I will publicly break up with you and then murder you, Gross.”

She hands over the pan she was washing for him to dry. “What exactly do you have against Valentine’s Day?”

“What don’t I have against Valentine’s Day?” she snaps, aggressively scrubbing the final pot. “It’s a scam by the greeting card industry that prays on emotional attachments to rob people of their money.”

Ben bends down to place the pan Devi handed him into the cabinet. “Or maybe it's a way for people to show that they love each other,” he suggests.

From his position, Ben can’t see Devi, but he assumes she’s rolling her eyes. “There are plenty of other ways to romance me, Gross.”

Ben stands up and turns to face her. “Well, what if I want to be romanced?” 

Devi snorts. “Ben, just because I don’t like Valentine’s Day, doesn’t mean I can’t be romantic.”

“Prove it.”

Ben hears a clatter and notices Devi has dropped a spoon on the floor. She looks at him, eyes wide with a combination of both confusion and annoyance. “Excuse me?”

“Prove that you can be romantic.”

Devi places a hand on her hip and stares him down. “Prove I can be romantic.” She ponders his statement for a moment, tilting her head to the side in contemplation. Suddenly, she snaps her fingers. “We could make a bet.”

Ben can’t help the sense of confusion that overwhelms him. He rubs his temple as he ponders Devi’s suggestion. “A bet?” He repeats dubiously. He hoped that Devi would drop all of this and just let him go all out in romancing her for Valentine’s Day. What even was the point of being so filthy rich if he couldn’t spend his money on a person he loved? And Ben would be lying if he didn’t say he was looking forward to watching Devi’s cheeks burn in embarrassment when he both paid the school band and acapella group a hefty sum to serenade her.

(Of course, Ben knows Devi, he knows she will never back down from challenge or competition. She’s like a weed, ruthlessly outcompeting other plants and organisms for vital resources. A beautiful weed. A dandelion.)

“A bet to prove once and for all which one of us is more romantic,” Devi clarifies, bending down to pick up the spoon she dropped earlier. “A better significant other.”

Ben narrows his eyes.“What are the terms of this ‘bet’?” He places the word bet in air quotes, almost mockingly.

“Whoever goes more over the top with romantic gestures on Valentine’s Day wins.”

“Interesting, what do you want from me if you win?”

Devi grins, slightly malevolently, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “If _I_ win, you have to admit that I’m smarter than you and I get to drive your car for a week.”

“A week? David, you’re a terrible driver.”

Devi’s smile grows wider. “Exactly.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “What do you want if you win, Gross?”

Ben contemplates her question for a moment, tapping his chin and— Aha! He has the perfect way to humiliate her. “If _I_ win, you have to very publicly declare your love for me in front of the entire school.”

Devi groans and mumbles under her breath, “I’d sooner publicly dump you.”

Ben holds out his hand. “Do we have a deal, David?”

Devi reaches out her hand to reciprocate his handshake, but then retracts it. “Just one thing, who's going to judge which one of us is more romantic?”

Drat. She has a point. He has no idea who could possibly serve a judge for their bet.

Devi claps her hands together. “I know! Eleanor and Fabiola!”

“No way! They’re your best friends, you’re setting this up so I lose!”

Sure, since Ben started dating Devi he’s formed a tentative friendship with her two best friends, but he’s certain that the only reason they tolerate him is that they know how much Devi loves him. Any opportunity to side with Devi over him, they’d choose her at the drop of a hat.

“It’s not as though you know anyone impartial, Gross,” Devi says with an eye roll.

Damn it! Why is she making so many good points today?

“Fine,” he concedes, “Eleanor and Fabiola can judge who wins our bet, but only if… they sign a contract, written up by me, swearing to be impartial.”

“Fine,” Devi agrees, finally reaching out to shake his hand.

* * *

Ben drafts a contract that looks like this:

_This contract serves as a binding agreement between Devi Vishwakumar and Benjamin Gross that they are engaging in a bet of the following terms._

  1. _Whoever completes more over the top romantic gestures on Wednesday, February 14th will be declared victorious_
    * _For the purposes of this contract, the word romantic shall include: any display of overt affection beyond the traditional displays of public affection normally undertaken by the participant (here the participants qualify they understand their limits), gift-giving of any degree larger than anticipated, verbose and flowery language not frequently utilized by each of the participants in daily life, and other displays of similar nature._
  2. _Whichever participant surpasses the expectations of the adjudicators will be declared the victor of this competition and the loser will adhere to the following terms based on the status of the winner._


  *     * _If Devi Vishwakumar wins, Benjamin Gross must publicly announce her mental and academic superiority as well as permit her to drive his car for one full week_
    * _If Benjamin Gross wins, Devi Vishwakumar must publicly declare her love for him in front of the entirety of Sherman Oaks High by the end of the day Wednesday, February 21st_



3. _Eleanor Wong and Fabiola Torres will serve as adjudicators_

_Additionally, adjudicators, Eleanor Wong and Fabiola Torres, will serve as signatories to this contract in order to ensure the strength of their veracity and impartiality regarding the competition._

He and Devi present the contract to Eleanor and Fabiola on Monday at school, having both already signed it the day before. The four of them are eating lunch together at a secluded table in the cafeteria. 

Fabiola narrows her eyes and looks between the two in suspicion. “You guys are making a bet?”

Eleanor claps her hands together. “Oh! It’s like they’re Jake and Amy!”

“How do you want us to keep score?” Fabiola asks

“That part is simple,” Ben says, taking a bite of his lunch. “You’ll both just keep a tally of the number of romantic — romantic as defined in Devi and I's contract — actions that each of us undertakes. The winner will simply be the person with the highest score.”

Fabiola still seems a mixture of unimpressed and concerned. “Don’t you two worry that the outcome of this bet might jeopardize your relationship?”

Devi snorts. “No. It’s not gonna ruin our relationship because there’s no way I’m going to lose.”

“If anything,” Ben says, “it’ll probably make our relationship stronger. Nothing to solidify how deeply invested in a relationship you are like a very public love declaration, right David?”

Devi rolls her eyes at him, but he can tell the gesture is affectionate rather than annoyed.

“Well, I’m in,” Eleanor says, taking the contract and signing with her loopy yet somehow immaculate signature. “This is gonna be hilarious.”

“If El’s in, I’m in too,” Fabiola agrees, signing the contract on the designated line. “But mostly because I want Devi to kick your ass, Ben.”

“Not fair! You two just agreed to be impartial,” Ben whines.

Devi throws back her head and laughs. “Looks like I’ve already won, Gross, care to surrender now?”

Devi’s smirk is infuriating, the same type of infuriating smirk she used to give whenever she beat him by barely a point on a test or assignment. The type of smirk she’s wearing used to make Ben’s blood boil, make him simmer with rage, but since he and Devi have started dating, her smirk makes him feel unbelievably endeared, charmed. Their competitiveness complements one another, pushes each of them to excel beyond what they could do on their own. Their relationship is not survival of the fittest, as Darwin would have put it, but rather one where he and Devi coevolve, pushing each other to be better each and every day and strengthening one another.

“Not a chance,” Ben answers. He responds to Devi with a smirk of his own, half smug, half smitten.

“Ugh, you two are sickening,” Fabiola says with a shake of her head.

“We’ll be impartial when it comes to judging your romantic gestures, yes, but behind the scenes, we’re definitely gonna be cheering for Devi,” Eleanor says, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

“And we’ve been paying attention over the past few years, we’re confident Devi is going to kick your butt,” Fabiola says, taking a sip of her chai tea latte. “There’s no need for us to meddle.”

“Besides, if she doesn’t, we’ll happily kick it for her,” Eleanor adds. “After your bet comes to an end, that is.”

As Ben eyes his girlfriend and her two best friends, the contract resting in the middle of the table between them, he realizes he might just be fucked.

But it sure doesn’t mean he’s going down without a fight.

* * *

Wednesday, February 14th swings around faster than either Devi or Ben expect, but Ben has a few tricks already planned for the day. 

The first greets Devi at her locker, confetti in the shape of red hearts that fly out as she opens it. 

“Not cool, Gross,” she says turning to him, trying to brush the tiny paper hearts off her clothes, out of her hair. “You’re playing dirty!”

“That’s the whole point of this bet,” Ben objects with a shit-eating grin. He opens his locker and finds Devi has already retaliated, covering every inch with ribbon, elaborately fancy paper hearts, and heart-shaped lollipops. “How did you even get in here?” Ben asks her, his mouth agape. He probably looks like a fish right now, his mouth opening and closing in shock.

Devi continues to run her hands through her hair as she tries to discard more of his heart confetti. “I have my ways,” she says with a sly smile.

He watches her fish her phone out of her pocket and unlocks it. Even from this distance, Ben can recognize the messages app. “Who are you texting?”

“None of your business,” Devi answers, sliding her phone back into her pocket, her eyes glinting with certain mischief.

Fabiola and Eleanor practically ambush him at his locker a second later, taking photos of Devi’s over the top decorations. “How did you two get here?”

Fabiola simply shrugs. “Devi texted us,” she says as if it’s only the most obvious thing in the world.

Eleanor clicks her tongue. “Based on the hearts Devi is still covered in and the state of Ben’s locker, it looks like the two of you are currently tied.” She pulls a clipboard from her backpack and writes something on it.

“Oh, Gross, you have no idea what I have planned for you,” Devi taunts.

“Neither do you.” He steps forward and presses a quick kiss to her lips, hoping it might throw her off her game — and perhaps give him an extra point for engaging in PDA. “David.”

He notices that Eleanor swoons and scribbles an additional note down on her clipboard in the background.

Devi retaliates immediately in history class. Their teacher gets approximately five minutes into some spiel on The Cold War, when the school orchestra barges through the door and surrounds his desk. He glances over at Devi to find her grinning in a way that can only be described as evil. The entire school is aware of their bet by now, expecting the day to be filled with chaotic interruptions as the two try to one-up one another. 

He hears only the opening chords of the song before he recognizes it, Devi has chosen to make the band serenade him with “My Heart Will Go On” — _real creative._

He knows she expects him to blush and bury his head on his desk in humiliation, but he holds his head high. Devi’s efforts to be romantic are honestly kind of sweet. (Ben knows she would never do this if they weren’t currently engaged in their ridiculous bet, but he takes the win.) Despite his attempt to ignore it, he still feels blush creeping up his neck, and knows his face is turning a matching rosy pink.

The serenade comes to an end after what feels like an eternity and he catches Devi’s expression once again. She looks (prematurely) victorious, as if she thinks she’s already defeated him. _She has no idea what’s coming for her._

Ben buys half of the school's supply of Candy Grams and has them all delivered to Devi during chemistry class — she ends up with a basket so large it has to be left at the foot of her desk, next to her backpack. Devi nukes him back by arranging for several flower deliveries, bouquet after bouquet of the most romantic flowers the school could offer end up stacked atop his desk. Ben bedazzles the interior of Devi’s notebooks with cartoon hearts and stickers, only to find she’s done the exact same thing to him.

Further, as an effort to gain more points, after noticing what happened this morning, Ben decides that his and Devi’s rule regarding PDA can be thrown out the window. So, he starts kissing her. A lot. Nothing too much, just light pecks on her cheek or lips, but enough to make Eleanor squeal and rally more points on her clipboard while Fabiola rolls her eyes and mutters under her breath. Devi catches onto what he’s doing rather quickly, and soon, she starts doing the same back to him.

He’s not complaining, by any means, but it’s only amped up the competition, if anything, and he knows that what he’s got planned for lunch will sweep the bet in his favour.

“Devi, Ben,” Fabiola says, glaring at the two pointedly as the four of them sit down for lunch, “you can’t keep kissing each other just for the sake of gaining more points.”

Eleanor claps her hand together. “Are you kidding me, Fab? They absolutely can!” Eleanor audibly squeaks when she notices that Ben has thrown his arm over Devi’s shoulder. “You two are honestly one of my OTPS.”

Fabiola glances at Eleanor. “El, you know OTP means one true pairing, right?”

“My other OTP is you and Eve, of course!” Eleanor replies, her smile widening. 

“Considering Ben and I usually don’t engage in PDA while at school, kissing qualifies under what was deemed romantic on the contract you both signed as adjudicators,” Devi says through her smirk before she’s kissing Ben again, too quickly and chastely for him to kiss her back.

(Ben retaliates by immediately kissing her once more the second she pulls away, the same chaste, teasing treatment.)

“See, this is what I mean!” Fabiola exclaims, seeming slightly annoyed, “if you two count every single peck as an ‘over the top’ romantic gesture this bet will never end.”

“Fine, we’ll stop using kisses as a way to gain more points, right Ben?” Devi turns to him awaiting his response.

Ben nods his head and then to seal the deal, leans in and kisses Devi once more.

Fabiola sighs exasperatedly and rolls her eyes. “You two are utterly ridiculous.”

Eleanor, who is still grinning widely and honestly looks like she might shake with excitement, shrugs her shoulders. “I still think they’re absolutely adorable.”

Ben slides his arm off Devi’s shoulder and cocks his head to the side and grins. He knows his feet are bouncing under the table in excitement as he readies for his plan. He does his best to keep expression neutral, however, as to not ruin the gesture. He doesn’t speak as Eleanor, Fabiola, and Devi converse about some TV show altogether. At one point, Devi turns to him, brows knit with concern, possibly even worry. “Ben, you haven’t said a word, are you alright?”

He smiles at her, hoping it’ll be enough to soothe her anxiety, without giving away too much. “Yeah,” he answers with a quick nod. “Yeah.”

Devi’s still looking at him, her expression untrusting filled with disquietude, but a glance in the other direction lets Ben know that this is his moment. He’s finally good to go.

“It’s just last night—” 

He bounces up onto his feet as the music behind him kicks in.

_“♪ I was sleeping and right in the middle of a good dream_

_Like all at once I wake up from something that keeps knocking at my brain ♪”_

As he sings, he looks straight at Devi, at first her expression seems unbelievably annoyed, possibly even furious, she’s still holding the metal fork with which she’s eating her lunch and she looks like she might stab him (or herself) with it. 

_“♪ Before I go insane I’ll hold my pillow to my head_

_And spring up in my bed screaming out the words I dread ♪”_

At the lyric spring, Ben jumps up, thankful for the experience he’s had jumping while he’s spent hours and hours shooting (and usually missing, but that’s unimportant) hoops. The entire cafeteria has turned to face their center table now and it would be so easy for Ben to get caught up in the stares of the crowd, but he keeps his eyes fixed on Devi. Her face has turned a delightful shade of red and she looks beyond humiliated as she moves to bury her head in her hands on the cafeteria table.

He hits a critical line of the song now, leaping up onto an empty table, spinning his feet in perfect coordination, the week-long practice dancing to this stupid song having paid off immeasurably.

_“♪ I think I love you! ♪”_

Devi’s head is still in her hands as she’s aggressively shaking her head, practically begging, begging him to stop and if he wasn’t so focused on getting the lyrics out perfectly, Ben would grin evilly at her. He watches Eleanor and Fabiola both grab Devi and force her to lift her head to face him. Finally, he can sing directly into her eyes once more.

_“♪ This morning I woke up with this feeling_

_I didn’t know to deal with and so I just decided to myself ♪”_

He can tell Devi is mumbling something, probably along the lines of ‘please, make him stop’ as she lifts her fork once more, getting a dangerous, possibly violent look in her eyes. (Behind it, Ben can still see her pure affection. He may be humiliating the hell out of her, but he knows somewhere deep down, Devi Vishwakumar appreciates how much effort he is putting into this whole thing, the same way he appreciates her efforts.)

_“♪ I’d hide it to myself and never talk about it_

_And did not go and shout it when you walk into the room ♪”_

Devi twirls her fork in her hand now, as if she’s planning on getting up and stabbing him with it at any second. Her face is an even deeper red now and if it weren’t for the firm grips Eleanor and Fabiola have on her arms, she’d probably be bashing her head into the table.

_“♪ I think I love you_

_I think I love you, so what am I so afraid of?_

_I’m afraid that I’m not sure of a love there is no cure for ♪”_

In retrospect, Ben thinks to himself that it’s slightly silly that he chose his particular song. He and Devi affirm they love each other quite often, it’s no longer a matter of thinking or questioning or uncertainty. He loves Devi with the same certainty that he knows that the sun will rise every morning, that the Earth will continue to spin on its axis as it orbits the sun, that as long as he is alive his heart will beat and his lungs will breathe. He is certain that he loves her in a way he has never been certain before. 

(He’s chosen this song for the sake of a silly reference that he knows may score some extra points with Eleanor.)

_“♪ I think I love you, isn't that what life is made of?_

_And it worries me to say that I’ve never felt this way! ♪”_

Singing the final line, Ben leaps down from the table and freezes in the most ridiculous pose he can think of — hands in the shape of a heart pressed against his chest — and grins widely. The entire cafeteria is clapping, but Ben is only focused on Devi. He catches a flicker of a smile on her face for just a moment before it morphs into an expected scowl. He takes a seat next to her once more and pulls her close. “You should get points docked for a lack of creativity,” she mumbles into his chest.

Ben laughs and drops a kiss into her hair and Devi elbows him in response.

“Eleanor!” Devi whines, peering up from Ben’s chest and looking frantically at her friend, “tell him stealing choreography and a song from _Zoey’s Playlist_ is not a fair way to win a bet.”

“Nope! He gets the points,” Eleanor says with a dreamy sigh, “that was objectively the best thing I’ve ever seen.”

* * *

Ben’s serenade is not the end of his plan to defeat Devi. He wonders if she even noticed that he dyed her entire lunch red and pink or that he stuffed all the empty pouches of her lunch bag with cinnamon hearts, or if she was too distracted watching his performance.

It was a good performance, based on Eleanor and Fabiola’s expressions, and he hopes enough to sway this competition in his favour.

He and Devi continue to battle one another till the very end, even as they walk back to his car together, he notices it’s covered in reddish-pink streamers and heart-shaped balloons. Even from their current distance, he spots a massive teddy bear sitting in the back seat. He meets Devi’s cocky smile with a look of confusion. He doesn’t understand when she could have possibly done this, his car was not in this state this morning when they’d driven together.

“H-how?” 

Devi flips her hair over her shoulder and grins. It’s smug and infuriating and so utterly _Devi_ it makes Ben’s pulse speed up. 

“I’m magic.”

* * *

“Haha!” Ben yells out upon spotting a new notification on his phone — one from the group chat containing him, Devi, Fabiola, and Eleanor set up exclusively for their bet.

Devi, who's tucked into his side, head resting on his chest, peers up and looks him in the eyes. “What?”

Ben feels his face being split by his beaming grin. He turns his phone towards her showing a string of texts from Fabiola and Eleanor. 

“I win.”

Devi Vishwakumar is never one to back down from a challenge, so it’s no surprise to Ben when she shows up at school the morning of the 21st, a scarily thick stack of cue cards in her hands ready to honour the terms of the bet.

She’d announced her “embarrassing public love confession” would take the form of a speech and while she’d typed up her speech and prepared her cue cards while she was over at his house, he’d not been granted permission to read it. (The one time Ben tried to get a glimpse of what was on her screen, Devi whacked him in the arm with her laptop, without even turning away from her word document.)

Ben can’t help it, something about this whole arrangement makes him feel uneasy. Usually, Devi is kind of a sore loser, her losses boiling over into catastrophic anger (case and point being when he scored a point higher than her on a chemistry exam and she smashed a glass beaker.) But Devi handles this loss gracefully, with equanimity, and Ben fears she might have something larger planned.

What if what Fabiola had asked them when they’d initiated this bet was true? What making Devi do this jeopardized their relationship?

He can’t have that happen. He won’t risk it. And before Ben can stop himself, he’s reaching for her arm.

“Devi.” She remains facing away from him, so he tightens his grip. “Don’t give the speech.”

Devi whips around to face him. “Why not?”

“I mean, we just spent all of last Wednesday showering each other with ridiculous amounts of affection as a form of competition, I think everyone here knows how much I love you and vice versa.”

“Not a good enough reason, Gross. We signed a binding contract did we not? I’m just holding out my end of our agreement.”

“It was not binding, we didn’t get it notarized.”

Devi rolls her eyes at him and looks back down at her stack of cue cards.

“Fine, you want the real reason?” Ben sighs and takes a deep breath. “Your happiness is worth way more than winning some stupid bet.”

Devi looks up at him again, arches an eyebrow, her expression shifting to one that’s slightly accusatory. “Did you just take that quote from _Brooklyn Nine-Nine_?” 

“I did,” Ben confirms, “but the sentiment is still true.”

Devi shakes her head. “No way. I don’t believe you, you’re not that nice.” She narrows her eyes at him and smiles. “What’s your real motivation for not wanting me to give this speech?”

Ben sheepishly rubs the back of his neck. “Honestly, I’m a little scared you’re gonna publicly break up with me rather than give a cinematic love confession.”

Devi throws back her head, crowing a laugh, one that warms Ben to the center of his chest. “I wasn’t going to publicly break up with you, Ben.” She passes him the stack of cue cards and he flips through them. He doesn’t read them in their entirety because just skimming he can see they’re wax poetic: full of metaphors and imagery and other forms of rhetoric that would make any English teacher proud.

He stuffs her set of cue cards in his pocket and chews his lower lip. “I know, I can’t help but worry a little bit though.”

Devi laughs again, the sound something more akin to a melody than a chuckle. “You know what I just realized?” she asks, snaking her arms around the back of his neck.

“What?”

“Eleanor was right, we _are_ kind of like Jake and Amy. Valentine’s Day is like our Halloween Heist.”

“Does that mean you want to do this every year?” Ben asks, feeling a surge of elation at the fact. He’s never had a more enjoyable Valentine’s Day than the one he and Devi just spent trying to utterly dominate on another.

“Yeah, if you want to, I guess,” Devi answers with a noncommittal shrug of her shoulders. “I certainly wouldn’t be against you serenading me again.”

“There were a few points where I thought you were gonna jump up from your seat and murder me,” Ben confesses.

Devi cocks her head. “I may have considered it, or at least considered stabbing you in the larynx with my fork.”

Ben chuckles, only Devi can make him laugh even with a threat of violence. “So does this mean I’ve convinced you to like Valentine’s Day now?”

“In your dreams, Gross,” Devi responds with an affectionate eye roll. “I do like when you spoil me though.” She fiddles with the locket resting on her neck. The one he’d bought before they’d even made their bet and given to her after the results were announced. That way, she would know his motivations were good and true and not mistake it for a way to wrack up more points.

“Duly noted.” He kisses her, softly, slowly, embedded in meaning.

She pulls away and smiles gently. “I will say though, I do like it better when you kiss me because you want to, rather than as a form of competition.”

“Oh, David.” He smooths his thumb over her cheekbone, letting all the love he feels for her shine from his eyes. “For someone so incredibly intelligent, sometimes you really are dense.” He kisses her again.

“It was never about the competition.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The number of times I rewatched the "I Think I Love You" scene from Zoey's Playlist while writing the serenade section of this was... slightly embarrassing (I almost had Ben sing "Everything Means Nothing If I Can't Have You" to Devi, but that would mean rewatching a scene from ZEP I'm sorta less of a fan of, so I picked a scene I liked more LOL
> 
> Drop a comment if you enjoyed this! I really love and appreciate knowing people's thoughts!

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this fic, leave a comment! They make me happier than Ben feels when watching an episode of Rick and Morty!


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